


An Angel Guardian

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: Blair has an angel tree topper that sometimes seems to send him in certain directions.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21
Collections: 2019 'The Sentinel Secret Santa' - Gift Exchange





	An Angel Guardian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/gifts).



> This is a gift for Katef. It is part of the Sentinel Secret Santa Exchange.

**Part One**

Blair Sandburg carefully lifted the lid off the small box he had pulled from a small stack of crates and unwrapped the tissue paper. Inside the box, resting on a blanket of soft cotton, sat a fragile angel tree topper. He let a finger run down the thin, glittery glass and smiled before holding the angel up and letting it block his sight of the top of the small tree he had put on a table in his warehouse apartment. He smiled again, seeing the glittery ornament in its place of honor before carefully laying it back in the box. It would be the last thing placed on the tree, after the lights and ornaments.

Technically, Blair was Jewish. And, if he were to admit it, for him Christmas wasn’t about the religious meanings of the holiday so much as about the underlying message of goodwill, giving, and peace on earth. As an anthropologist, Blair embraced many cultures with their holidays and rituals and accepted all as important. In his mind, each had its own beauty. But Christmas was always special because it signified a time for sharing and family.

As the only child of a single parent, Blair missed having family about. Yes, his mother had taken him all over the world, exposing him to many cultures – he suspected that’s where his love of anthropology started – but, especially at Christmas, he wished that he had someone special to share the holidays with.

Blair had lots of friends at Rainier. He was well liked by his anthropology students and by his professors, he also had some friends he could share a drink with, a few (both female and male) he could spend a night with, but none that he would consider for a lasting relationship. The only enduring relationship he had ever had was with his mother. Sometimes he suspected her attitude of “detach with love” might be the reason he hadn’t ended up in a serious relationship but whether it was or not, he always felt a bit lonely at Christmas when friends ran home to be with their loved ones. That was why he cherished the angel that would soon adorn his small tree. Thinking back he could remember when he had found it…

_It was the Christmas that he turned eighteen. His mother, Naomi, recognizing that her son was, at least for the present, ensconced in Cascade, had offered to come and spend the vacation with him but Blair had known his mother would be giving up a trip to some spa or commune and told her he would be spending the time catching up on work and visiting local attractions. So, Naomi had headed off for Asia but not before sending him a card and a sizeable check. The card had read, “Go somewhere fun and think of me.”_

_“A book store is fun,” Blair commented when he opened the card. He smiled and looked around the small apartment he shared with two other students (both gone for the holidays). He’d have time to read and relax, no loud noise, no crowded parties. Smiling, he went to the phone to call his mother and thank her before heading to the bank to make a deposit._

_The Book Niche was a small store just off the corner of Shepherd and Green Streets that sold new, used and rare books and Blair made his way there the next day with money in his pocket and a big smile on his face. He was looking in the window, thinking of the money in his pocket and what he would buy, when he noticed a man seated on a garbage can up the street. The man was wearing a tattered jacket wrapped tight around his thin body and he had a can beside him with a slit in it to put money in. Blair guessed the man was homeless and whispered, “There but for the grace of God,” before walking over and reaching in his pocket. He pulled out a five and slipped it in the can before turning back toward the store but the man stopped him._

_“Thank you,” he whispered and indicated a small box beside him. “Take the angel ornament. Consider it a Christmas present. The angel is Gabriel. He will lead you where you need to go.”_

_“Where I need to go?”_

_The man nodded and indicated the small box. Blair picked it up, admiring the delicate angel tree topper inside and turned back to ask about the ornament only the man was gone. “What?” he asked and stopped in surprise looking up and down the street. Blair knew he couldn’t have imagined the man, the angel was proof he had been there but it was as if he had vanished into thin air. Blair hadn’t planned on taking the man’s ornament but not knowing what else to do he carried it into the store._

_Inside, the store owner smiled and greeted Blair and going to the counter, Blair asked about the homeless man._

_“He gave you an angel?” the clerk shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve seen or met the man but, you know it’s funny, I was given this old book by a man this morning. He said it was owned by his great aunt, Gabriella, who was the closest thing he knew to an angel. I guess it being Christmas people are thinking about angels.”_

_Blair glanced at the book. It was The Sentinels of Paraguay by Sir Richard Burton. “How much is the book?” he asked and the man glanced over at it and shrugged._

_“It’s used; you can have it for fifty dollars.”_

_Disappointment shone on Blair’s face as he put the book down. He had taken fifty dollars with him but had given five to the homeless man. The clerk, seeing his face, glanced at the book. “How much do you have?”_

_“Forty five dollars,” Blair admitted and the clerk nodded._

_“Then it’s yours.” Blair had smiled, thanked the man and taken his treasure home…_

Glancing at the angel with a smile, Blair decided it had set him on the road to finding his doctorate. He had become fascinated with sentinels and had been studying people with heightened senses ever since that fateful trip. Of course, he had yet to find a full sentinel.

Decorating his small tree in the warehouse he now lived in, he carefully placed the angel on the top and glanced at it with a smile. “You found The Sentinels of Paraguay, could you find me a sentinel? I’ve been looking for a really long time.” For one moment he was sure the angel seemed to gleam but he knew it was some trick of the lighting and he turned back to pick up his cup of tea when his phone rang.

“Hey, Blair,” a voice at the other end of the phone said excitedly. “I know you’ve been looking for someone with heightened senses. Someone came in to the hospital today…”

**Part Two  
**

Jim Ellison gave a sigh as he rubbed his eyes. His computer screen was too bright and was giving him a headache. Ever since his four day stakeout he’d been suffering from headaches. Loud noises seemed to bother him, smells practically drove him crazy, his clothes were chafing his skin and food tasted weird.

“You okay?” Simon asked walking over.

“Yeah, just a headache.”

“You’ve been having them a lot since that Switchman stakeout.”

“I know but the doctors can’t find anything wrong. I met this kid yesterday at the hospital. He-“ Jim paused and sighed unsure he should say what he had heard and unsure he even believed it yet. “He says the problem is I have is hyper senses and I need to learn to control them.”

Simon frowned. “Hyper senses?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, like ice cream or wine tasters. Only, in my case, all five senses are heightened. He says he can help me. He says he’s been studying this stuff and he wants to run some tests,” Jim shrugged.

Simon frowned. “Have you checked the kid out?”

“Yeah, this morning. He’s legit, he’s an anthropology professor at Rainier.”

“And what does he get out of this arrangement?” Simon asked suspiciously.

“His doctorate. He wants to study me.”

“Well, if he can help you, take some time off and get it done. The Switchman Case is settled. Take a week and have this kid get you settled.”

“I’ll finish up some paperwork today and take the next week off,” Jim agreed.

"You’ve earned it,” Simon answered before heading to his office.

“Thanks,” Jim answered before turning back to his work. Hours later Jim stood and stretched before gathering his reports. Putting them in Simon’s inbox, Jim knocked on his door and waved. “I’m heading out, Sir.”

“Good, let me know how things go,” Simon answered.

“Will do,” Jim agreed and made his way home.

Entering his loft condo, Jim put down his mail and went to the answering machine, hitting play. The first three messages were sales offers, the fourth, a message from Blair. “Hi, Jim,” he began. “I’ve done some additional research and would like to talk to you about your senses. Um…maybe we can get together for a drink and talk? Give me a call.”

Being a - what was it Sandburg had called him, a sentinel, was not something Jim was particularly pleased about. “I’m a detective,” he told the machine, “I don’t need to be ‘a human crime lab with organic surveillance equipment.’ I haven’t needed to be one up till now.” But Jim also knew he couldn’t go on with his senses ambushing and bombarding him and, giving in, he lifted the phone and dialed Blair.

“Hello, this is Blair,” a pleasant voice answered.

“Sandburg, it’s Ellison,” Jim answered.

“Hey, Jim, how are you, man?” Blair continued in a soft voice and though Jim didn’t notice it, he began to relax by degrees, tension leaching from his body.

“Fine, I got your message.”

“Good, no headaches, no problems with your senses?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Right,” Blair agreed, knowing full well that “Nothing I can’t handle,” meant problems with his senses. “So, do you want to meet somewhere?”

“How about tomorrow? I just got in from work and I’ve got next week off.”

“Tomorrow works for me. As a matter of fact, tomorrow is the last day before the winter recess so once I submit my grades I’ll be free to help you all day and all next week.”

Jim shook his head hearing the enthusiasm in Blair’s voice. “Wonderful,” he said deadpan and Blair laughed.

“Why don’t we meet for lunch? There’s a really good seafood place near Cascade’s waterfront on Bay Street.”

Jim glanced at his balcony. Bay Street was within walking distance. “I know the place, Annie’s Seaside Restaurant. Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll meet you at one?”

“Great, see you then.”

“Right,” Jim hung up and turned examining his loft. Lately, it had been the only respite from a loud and smelly world.

Grabbing a beer and walking over to the balcony, Jim looked out. He could see the twinkling of Christmas lights on houses and shops in the distance and boats bobbing up and down in the chilly water. If Sandburg was right, and Jim had no reason to believe he wasn’t, than Jim could learn control so his senses wouldn’t blindside him. He guessed the kid could study him for a week, he’d get control and then they could both go their merry way, each getting something out of the meeting.

**Part Three  
**

At one, Jim was standing in front of Annie’s when Blair rushed up. “Hey Jim,” he greeted with a big smile that Jim noticed made his sapphire blue eyes sparkle. Blair was wearing a scruffy peacoat and a large red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, holding his long hair in place. As he stopped in front of Jim he bounced back and forth on his toes and tucked his hands under his arms. “It’s cold.”

“You have the wind blowing off the water and nothing blocking it,” Jim answered as a blast of cold air hit them.

Blair nodded, “So let’s go in where it’s warm,” he suggested and they entered Annie’s.

The restaurant was decorated for Christmas with red poinsettias placed strategically around the room and some strands of garland draping the corner bar. It was lunchtime and there were several tables occupied, mostly with shoppers, and Jim could hear them talking about their bargains. Jim and Blair were quickly ushered to a table in a corner near the front window.

“I hear this place is really good,” Blair told Jim, sitting back.

“It is,” Jim agreed. “I’ve eaten here before. I live up the street.”

“You live near here,” Blair repeated. “Nice.”

Jim shrugged and the pair glanced over the menu ordering food and drinks before Blair turned to Jim. “So what problems did you have yesterday?”

“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Right, but if I am to help you, I need to know what causes problems and what happens because of those problems.”

Jim nodded. “The computer monitor at work bothered my eyes.”

“Did you turn down the brightness?”

“Yeah, but it was still too bright.”

“Try this, next time, when it starts to bother you, get up and do something else for a while to give your eyes a break. Did it cause a headache?”

About to answer, Jim paused when the waitress moved a couple to a table next to theirs, well within hearing distance. “Maybe we should discuss this after lunch. We can go back to my place.”

“Okay,” Blair agreed. “That works for me.” He gave Jim a bright smile. “Any special plans for Christmas?”

Jim shook his head no. “I’m working an extra shift covering for a fellow detective, Henri Brown, so he can spend time with his family.”

“That’s really nice. You don’t have family you spend Christmas with?”

Blair could see there was a reaction but all Jim did was shake his head no. Realizing there was something there, some pain, Blair quickly changed the subject. “My mom, she isn’t into organized religion. She celebrates the solstice instead.”

“The solstice?”

“Yeah, you know, celebrating the longest night of the year, at least in the northern hemisphere.”

“How do you celebrate the solstice?” Jim asked as the waitress brought their orders.

“Well, first she and her friends find a nice beach and then they dance and sing around the fire.”

“That doesn’t sound so awful,” Jim stated and then narrowed his eyes. “Are they dressed?”

“That would depend on how far south she and her friends are when they celebrate.”

Jim laughed. “I see - or more precisely, I’d rather not see.”

Blair chuckled in answer and the pair ate lunch while watching shoppers running back and forth and Blair told him about life as a student/teaching assistant. Finishing, Jim paid the bill, “After all,” he told Blair, “you’re helping me.”

After the lunch, the pair walked back to Jim’s apartment. Blair was more than a little interested in seeing the kind of space a sentinel would find comfortable and entered, looking around. Deciding it was a bit stark, even for a sentinel, he glanced over at Jim who was putting on a pot of coffee. “Nice place, when did you move in?”

“About five years ago,” Jim turned and watched Blair walk around.

“I can tell you’re not into clutter.” Blair stopped by the stereo and looked at the Santana CDs.

“Clutter causes dust.”

“And a sentinel would be more likely to find dust upsetting. I get it.”

“I haven’t been a sentinel for the last five years, Sandburg. I just don’t like dust.”

“Actually, Jim, you’ve been a sentinel all your life, it’s a genetic thing. You just weren’t online.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a way to be not online again?” Jim asked wistfully.

“Afraid not.” Blair turned back before adding, “But I will help you get control. So, start by telling me, did you end up with a headache yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“If a ten is being shot in the chest and a one is a splinter, where on the scale of one to ten would you put the headache?”

“Six or seven,” Jim admitted.

“It was a migraine?” Blair asked and Jim nodded.

“Are you having any problems right now?”

“No, actually I’ve -” Jim stopped as he realized he was about to say he didn’t seem to have any problems when Blair was near.

“You’ve what?”

Jim took a breath and then shrugged. “I seem okay when you’re around.”

Not sure how Blair would take the admission, he glanced at the other man and saw Blair’s face light up, his smile making his eyes sparkle. “Every sentinel had a guide. I think I might be yours, Jim.”

“What’s a guide?”

“A partner who watches the sentinel’s back. The guide keeps the sentinel from zoning or brings him back from a zone and deals with spikes.”

“But…” Jim paused remembering his idea of learning control in a week. “How long does the sentinel need the partner?”

“His whole life, Jim. In tribal cultures, where there’s a lot less stimuli to zone on, the sentinel always had a guide watching his back if he used his senses.”

“How the hell can I do my job if I need you to watch my back? You’re not a cop!”

“Easy,” Blair held up his hands placatingly. “Let’s start by getting you control then we’ll figure everything else out.”

“But,” Jim sighed, clearly disappointed. “It’s nothing against you, Sandburg, but I thought we could wrap this up in a week.”

“A week,” Blair paused looking at Jim like he had two heads. “That’s just not going to happen. There’s too much to learn to deal with, especially in an urban environment.” He paused, thinking over the problem. “Listen, why don’t you get me a ride-along pass and we can start thinking about someone to help when I’m not with you. I can tell my dissertation committee I need the ride-along to do research.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to sell the idea to Simon, he’s my boss, but I guess we can start that way.”

“Great.” Blair gave Jim that bright smile. “So now, let’s take a look around your place. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot of stuff that’s not sentinel safe.”

“What do you mean not safe?”

In answer, Blair gave a sigh of his own and rolled his eyes. “There’s a new word entering your vocabulary. The word is organic. Get used to it.”

**Part Four  
**

Jim and Blair spent the next four afternoons together, learning about Jim’s senses and each other. But somewhat surprising to both men the days seemed to morph into evenings together, sharing Jags games or a movie over pizza and beer. By day five, while Jim did have a better handle on his senses, the man he had first thought of as a neo hippie witchdoctor had become a friend that Jim enjoyed spending time with and Jim had turned from Joe Friday, unemotional cop with a badge, to a friend with a dry, but decidedly wicked, sense of humor.

The only problem that marred their relationship (and neither would admit to it) was the growing attraction between them.

Jim would look at Blair and see a gorgeous man with a brilliant intellect and kind nature. Blair would look at Jim and see an Adonis with a strong sense of justice and kind heart. At night, at home in his warehouse, Blair would fantasize about Jim, and Jim, at home in the loft, would fantasize about Blair.

Such was the situation when on day six of Jim’s seven day vacation, Blair called and invited Jim to dinner at the warehouse. “What should I bring?” Jim asked.

Blair wanted to say condoms but instead said, “Wine?”

“Sure,” Jim agreed. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Hanging up, Blair glanced around his warehouse apartment. Pulling out his expensive, scentless candles, he placed them around the room before starting dinner. He wasn’t actually thinking in terms of a seduction scene, Jim had fed him dinner the last five nights and he wanted to return the favor. Glancing over at the small tree, lights twinkling, he smiled. “You’ve shown me my path and then my sentinel. Can you help me get my relationship to the next level?”

The angel didn’t answer but seemed to glow just a bit brighter. Blair, chalking it up to the play of light, turned back to the kitchen and started working on dinner.

Jim was prompt and at six Blair’s doorbell rang. “Hellooo,” Blair answered, a smile in his voice.

“It’s Ellison,” came over the intercom.

“Hold on I’ll buzz you in,” Blair answered and pressed the buzzer.

Jim walked in and glanced around noting the soft candlelight. “Something smells good,” he complimented.

“I’m making lasagna and garlic bread,” Blair answered and walked over carrying two beers.

“Thanks,” Jim answered taking one and looking around, his eyes moving to the small Christmas tree in the corner. Walking over, Jim glanced at the tree and then the angel on top. “You know,” he said softly. “My mother had an angel just like that on her tree.” He reached up with his free hand to touch the delicate glass.

Walking over to stand beside Jim, Blair glanced at the angel. “I’ve had that for years. I know it’s ridiculous but I’ve often thought of it as my guardian angel.”

“My mom always said you put an angel on the top of the tree as a guardian,” Jim continued. “I’d forgotten about that. After she left, I never saw the angel again.”

“Your mom left?” Blair asked quietly standing beside him.

“Yeah, when I was a kid. My father threw out everything that was hers when she left. I guess the angel was one of the things he got rid of.”

Blair glanced at the angel and then at his new friend. “You can have it,” he said softly. “I’d be happy knowing it’s watching over you.”

Jim turned and looked into Blair’s eyes. “I wouldn’t take your angel,” he said softly. “But that’s one of the most generous and thoughtful gifts I’ve ever been offered.”

Slowly, hesitantly, a hand came up to touch Blair’s soft curls that framed his face. And then Blair was leaning into him, the two coming together for a kiss. It was not a hungry passionate kiss, rather it was tentative. Pulling apart, they glanced at each other, both smiling.

“We can share the angel,” Blair said softly.

“I would like that.” Jim leaned down for a second kiss.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Blair whispered softly, his lips brushing against Jim’s. “But in tribal cultures the sentinel and guide were always lovers.”

“Then I’m lucky I found my guide,” Jim answered, his arms encircling Blair.

“Technically, I found you.” Blair ran a hand down Jim’s face, feeling the soft skin and strong jaw. “But truthfully, the angel brought us together.”

Leaning into one another, the men kissed, again, neither noticing the angel seemed to glow brighter.


End file.
